


A Question for Pandora

by RussetDown



Series: Pandora AU [1]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Anxiety, Biting, Blindfolds, Dry Humping, Evil X has a lot of shame, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgy, Praise Kink, Ritualized Sex, Self-Doubt, Shameless Smut, Spitroasting, This feels a lot kinkier than it is, silent sex, stupid nicknames, well I'm shameless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28890702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussetDown/pseuds/RussetDown
Summary: Warmth, and Quiet and Darkness. Lovers without names, Release without Risk. Evil Xisuma was in The Room and The Room was Safe. They were here to play The Game.(Evil needs to find his calm, and Xisuma and their friends are here to help him with a bit of... carnal distraction.)
Relationships: Zedaph/Evil Xisuma, xisumavoid/evil xisuma
Series: Pandora AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118711
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	A Question for Pandora

The Game was going to be played that night. 

Xisuma had mentioned it in the morning, in the quiet moments before he rushed off to attend to the tasks pulling him in nine different directions at once. It wasn’t surprising, really. Evil wondered what had clued the other Xisuma in to his high strung mindset. It was probably the second spanner he had sent flying across the workshop in a fit of frustration the day before. Definitely the second spanner. Maybe the third. 

The point was that Evil had felt tension building for days, and Xisuma had caught the trend. All he had to do was get through today, and the Room would be waiting for him.

Evil spent most of the day with Zedaph, the way he usually did on those afternoons before the Game was played. Bustling around the cave of contraptions, listening to his friend chatter, kept his mind busy and staved off the temptation to actually think about what would happen when he returned to Xisuma’s base in the evening. Zed always opened the door without complaint on those days, bypassing his usual grumbling about early mornings. He knew that Evil needed the distraction before the Game started. He’d seen what happened when Evil got too far into his head.

Was Zed involved in the little game that X had put together? The blindfold was always placed too well for him to get a clear idea of who had been in the room with him. That was half the purpose of the game, after all. Only people he trusted, only friends, but which ones were always left a mystery. More than that, Evil didn’t want to know who joined him in the Room. There was comfort in that. He could get what he needed there, in the warmth and darkness of the Room, and still look his friends in the eye without going all red and getting the inescapable urge to start running. To have sex with a friend, well, it wasn’t Safe. A deep shame welled up in him at the thought alone. It was just… bad. To have someone know him like that. To look someone in the eyes knowing that they had touched him, seen him at his most vulnerable. He couldn’t. Before the game, he had no way to break the tension welling up inside of him without lashing out. It had escalated to the point where Xisuma had to step in and force things to change. Thus, the game was born. 

It suited him just fine.

Logically, he knew that his friends had seen him in _that_ way, but that wasn't the point. They wouldn't look at him differently, he trusted them with that. He would look at them differently. This was easier; this was Safe.

It seemed to change every time, a different combination of people in the Room with him. Some familiar hands showed up more often than others, and each mix brought different results. Evil never knew what to expect, and that was okay. Xisuma knew what was going on, orchestrated things behind Evil’s back, and that was the way he liked it. It was safer that way, and perhaps more exciting. 

Some came in couples or groups. Rough Hands made his presence known pretty often, and when he was there Tapper usually joined as well. The Silly bastard was always there, Smooth and sometimes Bitey tended to come with him. Others came alone, like the quiet one with the clever fingers. They each brought their own presences to the space, their own needs and wants. Some mixes worked better than others, but did it really matter? He always got what he needed.

Xisuma was the only person he always knew was there. Xisuma wouldn't leave his fragmented half, not for a moment when Evil was so vulnerable. It wasn't in his nature. Still, he tried to separate Xisuma from the Game as much as he could. X was Keeper, and Keeper was X, yes yes fine. But Keeper and Xisuma didn't feel the same, and that was enough to keep the barrier stable and let him look X in the face with the same protective arrogance he always had. Keeper had seen Evil broken down to his base elements with strong hands and rebuilt with gentle touches. Xisuma hadn't. It was still okay. 

Nights like this were good for Evil X. The nights where they played the Game were special. X came up behind him and laid his hand on Evil's right shoulder, always the right shoulder, this was how it started. There was a ritual to it, and there was safety in ritual. He'd put the blindfold on himself, wrapping the spider silk around his head until he couldn't see any of the sea-lantern brightness that characterized Xisuma's base. The rasp of fabric against his eyelashes pulled him into the right headspace, and he sat to wait for Xisuma’s return in the increasingly comfortable darkness. He would check Evil's work, making sure that Evil couldn't cheat and peek. Evil had never tried, and he never would, but the checking was part of the routine, and the routine was the same every time.

A quiet, pleased hum from X would signal it was time to stand up and go to the Room. A quiet shuffle of feet, the same cheery "Watch your head!" and they were there.

The sound was different, in the Room. Muffled, soft, the buzz and clank of X's towers left at the door. In any other situation, Evil would have despised that. Noise was good, noise was movement and busyness and distraction. Noise was real, solid and grounding; noise was Safe. This, however, was the Room, and the Room was also Safe. The Game was Safe, and there was a lot that was Safe in the Game that wouldn't be Safe elsewhere. Xisuma was there, and Xisuma was also Safe. Xisuma made it Safe.

The sound of latches popping was always so loud, in the Room. The release of pressure from his chest as clever fingers pulled his chestplate off in a smooth movement. Gentle touches on his arms, his legs, as the containing, cementing, gentle force of the suit was pulled away, piece by piece. Open and vulnerable, Nakedness without nakedness. The swivel-creak of a shulker box. The rasp of his undersuit on shoulders now bare to the world of the Room. Then, true nakedness.

He always found himself kneeling, then, the wool carpeting soft, but too thin to shield his knees from the harder surface beneath. Phantom aches always remained after the Game. Evil had come to appreciate them as a reminder of his experiences. He settled himself with his back to Xisuma, between his other half's knees. They would sit together, quietly, for a few heartbeats. X's hand resting carefully on Evil's head, wrapping smooth fingers in overgrown hair.

Evil’s shoulders tightened as he heard the paper flap of elytra and the thud of boots from outside of the soft silence. The others always arrived in twos and threes, indistinct voices muffled by the confines of the Room, softening to susurrated suggestions of voices as they entered. The silence never seemed uncomfortable, somehow. The gentle shuffling proved that there were presences in the emptiness. They comforted him. 

He knew there was some discussion, beforehand, about who was coming. Xisuma always knew when everyone had arrived, and what the general plan for the evening was, at least to the point where he already had supplies waiting. It wasn't Evil's job to think about it, so he didn't. It was easier that way. When the room was still but for the fidgets and movements of a small crowd, and X seemed satisfied, he closed his hand gently in Evil's hair. The unspoken question rang clear, and Evil responded with a slight jerk of his head. I'm Ready.

The wooden shump of a piston door cut off the dregs of distant buzzing, and whispered conversations faded. The silence rang in Evil's ears, a relic of years too close to loud noises and too long in the void's stark nothing.

No. No. This was the Game, the game was Safe. This silence was Safe.

The silence always ended soon enough. Xisuma knew not to push it more than he had to. The hand in Evil's hair gave another squeeze, another option out. No, Evil was ready. Another nod. Two Squeezes. Okay.

Somewhere above and behind, X recited the rules of the Game. Evil didn't need to pay attention to these, he had heard them so many times before and they never changed unless he asked. The others had heard them, too, every single one of them had been here before. Still, they were said. It was important. It was the last step.

"These are the Rules you agreed to, will you abide by them?." There it was. Xisuma's voice was pointed in expectation. 

A ragged, hushed chorus of confirmation followed Xisuma’s recitation. The echo. Five or so voices tonight, not a huge crowd. Just enough.

And the Game began.

Just like that, Xisuma was gone. Keeper was here, and Xisuma was gone. A gentle, unyielding hand pressed against Evil's ribcage, pushing him up and towards the centre. A mass of hands met him, and he sunk gracelessly into their hold. They would support him. Fingertips pushed against his frame, melded together into indistinct sets of five as they began their exploration. They were always so gentle, at first, testing the waters and making themselves known to him.

Rough Hands was here tonight, calluses tracing a curlicue pattern on the join of his neck and shoulder. He had left quite a bite there last time, Evil wondered if there was still a mark. Maybe he was just planning on doing it again.

Evil's back pressed into the raised, woollen platform that would be the evening's stage. Rough Hands pulled away, and his touch was replaced with a warm, wet puff of air. Probably his mouth? Gentle lips made contact with the sensitized patch of skin Rough had been playing with, and Evil let out a sharp inhale as a set of broad teeth began to worry the skin. Definitely Rough Hands, then.

His attention was stolen from the moment by another hand grasping at his hip, a grounding presence. A second hand drew up from the contact point, telegraphing a line up his side and towards his front. They had gotten good at mapping their movements like that, allowing Evil to see them coming without looking at all. Muscles tensed and jumped under the tracing fingers, Evil's body responding to their movements all on its own.

Keeper, it must be Keeper, took his time in securing his prize. Bastard had always been a tease. Evil arched into the touch, pushing the hand towards his chest proper. The hand on his waist held firm, once grounding, now stern. This wasn't Evil's to control, and he would take what they had to give. The single offending hand was joined by others, now, tracing his curves as if they were building a map of his body solely based on touch. There were so many, too many, just enough, but none where he needed them.

As it turns out, Smooth was impatient tonight, too. He felt two broad, soft hands on his ribs, wrapping under his arms, and had a brief moment to adjust before he felt himself be pulled backwards until he was propped up against a broad chest. He let out a slight disgruntled noise as all the hands fell away before retaking their places with a few huffed laughs. Smooth's arms bolstered him for a moment, and then came to rest on his chest, broad flat palms bracketing his ribs. He seemed so small against the taller man, and felt a shiver pass through him. He had no power here. Perfect.

Smooth's actions seemed to spur on the others. Gentle touches gelled over into less innocent caresses as Evil X began to melt. A sudden pinch to his nipple caused a yelp, which earned him a rough chuckle from behind him and another hand to match the other side, rolling and tugging in symmetry. Sharp sparks of pleasure pushed themselves into Evil X's consciousness, and he dove into them with abandon. A hand found its way to cup one of the rounds of his ass, and he pushed down into it. Hand and mouths, on his chest, his hips, one sly person inching closer to his inner thigh. He registered Smooth's chest shifting up and down below him, and grounded himself using the gentle motion. Torn between pushing down towards groundedness or pushing up towards the hands, he writhed. The hands held him steady.

The man beneath him seemed to realize his indecision. Arms wrapped around his chest and stomach and pulled him close. Bound against the slight pudge of the man, the choice was taken away from him. Good, much better. Still, he twisted against the hands. Now that it was not his choice, he wanted the opposite, he was Evil X, that's what he did, what he had to do. Smooth didn't so much as falter. All Evil X managed to do was make himself all-too-aware of the length pressing against the curve of his ass. He ground down hard and relished the groan that hummed through the chest behind him. Resistance can be shown in many ways.

Evil's moment of brattiness earned him a slap on the ass and a squeeze of the inner thigh. A surprised whimper escaped him, and he heard a few answering noises. They had laid him out in that way before, spanked him until his ass was burning and uncontrolled tears dripped down his face onto the plinth. He had begged them for more, they had given him just enough. That didn't seem to be the plan tonight. Whatever the plan was, they were taking their damn time.

They were touching him more intimately now, their presences demanding and persistent in his mind. Long, elegant fingers lay a track of bright smarting pinches into his inner thigh, there was a mouth on his neck, the soft scrape of a well-maintained beard. Warm breath raised goosebumps on his skin. Someone had taken to scratching their nails up his flanks, and Evil X hoped they would leave raised marks he could admire once this was done. Warm, slick fingers made themselves known at the crease of his inner thigh, announcing their intention but not moving.

A knee planted itself too close to his sex, and he felt a person loom over him, overbearing and so very close. The thigh made contact - finally- with his core, and he stilled as hair brushed his cheek.

"Ask."

Time stopped and Evil froze within it as the veil of anonymity threatened to fall and leave him exposed.This wasn't right, this wasn’t normal, this wasn’t a part of the game. This wasn't how it worked. They didn't speak, no one spoke, that was a rule. Was it one of the rules? It was probably a rule, and the rules got respected. The Room should have broken, people should have raised an objection.

They didn't. For some reason neither did he. 

He waited. Every hand stilled, a silent anticipation. 

It came again.

"Ask."

That was Zedaph. Zedaph was breaking the rules, Zedaph shouldn't exist in the Room, in the Room, he was someone else, and yet. And Yet. Zed was Safe. 

"Please."

The tension around Evil broke in that moment. Hands returned to his skin, and Smooth let out a groan from beneath him. Impulse. Impulse was Safe. Zed's fingers met their mark and worked their way into his body in deliberate, thoughtful motions, preparing him for what was to come. Evil wondered why he bothered, at that moment he felt like he could have taken anything with no prep whatsoever. His body opened readily under Zed's hands. Xisuma let out a chortle to his right. 

"Look at him, so eager for you! He's always been good like that, he can take it now, I think." His voice was careful, testing this new normal.

It took a second for Evil to realize that the low whine was coming from his own chest. He was good, he was being good, Xisuma thought he was good.

He pushed himself back against the fingers inside him, riding them as much as he could given the awkward angle. Xisuma, the bastard, took this as permission to continue his monologue.

"He's always been like that, so eager to please. I think we should let him show us how good he is, and then make it clear just how much we appreciate it."

Half-noises of assent filled Evil's world, unsure still of their places in this new and fragile okay. Zed hummed his assent distractedly, pulling back from his place above Evil X to rest on his haunches between Evil's askew thighs. His fingers pulled out of Evil's hole, drawing out an annoyed whine.

The whine was stolen from his lips by a kiss. Dry, bitten lips pressed against his, and he responded with fervour, trying to keep his mind off the emptiness. The kisser huffed a small, self-satisfied laugh and dove into the kiss in kind, pressing into the motion and licking into Evil's willing mouth, demanding and all-encompassing.

It was almost enough to distract Evil from the blunt nudge against his hole. The noise he made into the kisser's mouth made him flush in embarrassment, but that was swept away by the feeling of someone finally making their way home. It was everything he needed, the stretch and mild sting, the tugging on the muscles of his core. The growing fullness. The spreading warmth. It was perfect. 

He felt himself sink into Impulse's chest, boneless and loose. The person inside of him wasn't moving, not yet. Damnit, why weren't they moving? He wasn't made of glass, he could take it. He'd taken it before.

But tonight it was different. Everyone was waiting for him, waiting for it to be okay. The newness had struck this too.

"Who are you?"

He registered the question too late. This wasn't part of the game, this wasn't what he was supposed to do. Well, fuck it. It didn't matter anymore, and he wanted to know.

The man inside him froze. His hands fell forward to rest themselves on Evil's hips, calluses catching at the delicate skin. Rough Hands. 

Oh no. He’d overstepped. This was too far. What if this man didn't want him to know? The rules were already broken, but now it was Evil doing the breaking. No, what if he'd asked too much? Evil had made him uncomfortable, he had broken the Game and now it was over and he had hurt someone and it was his fault and he was going to get voided this time and he would deserve it and - 

"Can I tell him?" 

Xisuma. Xisuma was Safe. 

"Yeah, for sure." 

Rough Hands didn't sound angry. Warm tones and smoothed vowels. Evil knew that voice.

"That's Beef, Ex. Do you want to keep goin'?"

Beef. Beef was Safe.

Words were hard. Evil took a shortcut and pushed himself down on Beef's length, experimentally. The other man groaned, deep in his chest. He sounded pleased enough. Evil could do this. Another push, a warm slide just on this side of too much. Beef met his stroke with a thrust of his own and, winding up, they found a rhythm together. Evil wasn't trying to conceal his sounds anymore, and the others took this as permission to join him. Zed pulled Evil's right hand away from his body and pressed his own length into it. Evil took it gratefully into his fist, ripping a choked gasp from his throat.

Someone - the kisser?- Hooked a thigh over his hips and began rolling his own against Evil's side. Impulse let out a guffaw. 

"That desperate, Tango?"

"You try going this long and only getting some kissing action! I've been out of my mind this whole time, at least you have a sweet piece on your lap!" Tango's indignant tone gained some heat, and Evil shivered as lips traced the shell of his ear. "And you are sweet, aren’t you?” Hot breath whuffed against Evil’s cheek. “Sittin' all pretty, taking Beef so well..." 

Evil scrabbled his free hand down to where Tango must be and groped blindly for his hardness where it was pressed against him. Fuck, he didn't know if he wanted to shut Tango up or give him something more to talk about. He found his prize and began working Tango’s length. He wanted action? Have some action. 

Evil lost himself in that tangle of bodies. That was always the aim of the Game, and that was still true now. He was aware of voices, hands, mouths, bodies, touches. People were praising him, calling him good. He let it all wash over him, individuals melding into a mass of want, need, fuck, please. He was at the centre. He was being good. A cock nudged his lips, and he opened his mouth obediently to allow it entrance.

Impulse ground against his backside, and he shifted to give a better angle. Impulse's moan called an echo from Zed and Tango, Evil instinctively clenching his hands on their shafts. He flew high on their sounds, buzzing with the power that their pleasure gave him. He was causing their ecstasy, their need. That was his.

Beef was the first to reach his climax, releasing deep inside of Evil with a drawn-out, grateful moan. Tango followed soon after, angling himself so Evil could feel his release just hit his chin, trailing down over his chest. Evil milked them through their climaxes, in hole and hand, until each, in turn, pulled away.

Impulse squeezed Evil's hips, a question, and Evil ground his hips back as best he could in response. Impulse's grip hardened and Evil felt himself lifted away from the ground; his weight nothing to Impulse, as he was was manhandled into position. Evil felt the thick head of Impulse's member at his entrance. He felt his hole squeeze, involuntarily, and Impulse twitched, head pressing into Evil inexorably, gravity aiding its slide.

Two satisfied, three left. Three more people before he could claim his prize. That was how it went. Evil redoubled his efforts, pressing down on Impulse below him, tonguing under the head of Xisuma's shaft, and giving poor Zedaph an extremely sloppy handjob. Can't win them all. Still, it was enough. The three men fell apart in their own turns, painting Evil X's body with their release inside and out. Evil had won the game, and it was time for his prize.

Six sets of hands descended on him, experienced hands. They had all done this before and knew exactly what he needed. Three fingers breached his hole, Zed's mouth wrapping around him and sucking hard. Hands stroked his pecs, his ass, his thighs, it was everything, it was too much, it was enough. His body was suddenly present in a way that it hadn't been all evening when it wasn't about him, and he _needed_. He needed release. Needed to reach his summit and sink into the nothingness on the other side. He had earned it, and now he wanted it more than anything else.

Xisuma was speaking to him, whispering filth into Evil's ear. He couldn't tell what he was saying, nothing made sense. Then, on the periphery, he heard the words that Kee - that Xisuma always said. _It's okay, you can let go now_.

And so he did.

And it was Safe.

**Author's Note:**

> _This is my first published fic in the Hermitcraft fandom, and my first published smut overall. It was written over the course of three hours in the Unnamed Hermitship Server. If you would like more content from this au (Or special access to the work of authors *much* better than I) Reach out to me on Tumblr and join us!_
> 
> There is a part two with aftercare, worldbuilding, and more smut. If you want to read it, let me know? I mean, it’s going to get written anyways, but it will be faster if I know someone is interested!
> 
> Thank you to [ShadowFire_RavenPheonix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowfire_RavenPheonix/pseuds/Shadowfire_RavenPheonix) and [swc-afterdark (ironmermaidens)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironmermaidens/pseuds/swc-afterdark) for the beta!


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